


Bones Sinking Like Stones

by emmarush



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/F, F/M, Hate, Love, M/M, Pre-Canon, Revenge, Robert's Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmarush/pseuds/emmarush
Summary: Following the stories of Jaime Lannister, Ned Stark, Ashara Dayne and an original Targaryen. Begins with the fall of the Targaryen dynasty. The game takes a drastic change and the fate of Westeros will never be the same.ORA story of the great loves and losses of Robert's Rebellion and their consequences.AU - Canon Divergence. Based on ASOIAF books with GoT aspects and timeline included. Eventually four OC characters but only one in the beginning.





	1. Prologue - KINGSLANDING 283AC

**KINGSLANDING, 283AC.**

The clanking of armour echoed off the stone passage, blood dripping a path behind the moving figure. His heartbeat was so profound he could hear it ringing in his ear. His white cloak flew behind him as he ran down the next corridor, approaching his destination with anticipation and horror. He turned a corner into the hallway, only to hear a ringing scream and baby’s cry of terror bounce off the walls from the furthermost door of the holdfast. _It was too late._ He desperately burst into the door to his left, hoping they had not all hid in one room. This was the only other place they would hide. He barred the door quickly before whispering as quietly as possible for any sign of life. He was greeted by silver hair poking out from under the bed, cradling a crying toddler the silver-haired woman was trying to keep quiet. _Thank the gods._ He ran to the curtain in the corner of the room, pulling it back and pushing all of his weight onto the secret door he knew was there.

“Hurry!” he whispered, pushing them into the narrow passage as the barred door began to bang.

He quickly slid in, shutting the curtain and the door behind them as he heard the sound of the barred door crashing down. Ushering them through the complicated spider web within the walls, they travelled down and down and down. The child was smart enough to understand not to make a fuss, only whispering for her mother every few minutes. The passages eventually widened and the smell of salt swept through the caves while howling wind and timely crashes echoed through the passage. They hurried to the exit, where a small rowing boat was softly hitting the rocks in its sheltered area. _Thank the gods again for a calm enough sea._ He took the blankets and head shawls, quickly wrapping the woman and child up tightly, particularly intending to protect the woman’s silver hair from sight. The boat had bags containing essentials and gold, tightly fastened underneath the seat. Quickly laying the child on the bottom of the boat, still whimpering, he turned to the violet-eyed woman with love and regret in his eyes.

“Get out of Blackwater Bay. Avoid Dragonstone and its surroundings; they are all under siege. Get around Sharp Point, and a merchant ship with a small Martell flag flying from the bow will be there waiting for you. It will take you to Sunspear, where you will be safe,” he said, helping her into a boat _thanking the gods_ she knew how to row.

“Wait -”

“Hurry you must go, my love,” he replied, worry lacing his voice.

“I am with child.”

He stilled, despair and shock turning him pale. He knew he could not see her again for many years, and yet he longed to jump in the boat with her. But he could not. Not while his father walked the earth.

“One day, I will come back for you, precious. You will get the vengeance you deserve. But you must go now. I love you, I always will.”

She nodded, tears streaming down both of their faces as he cast off the line and she began to row away, the little girl tucked down low by her feet. The sudden chill whipped her face as she exited the sheltered gap in the rocks. She stared up hundreds of feet at the magnificent red brick towering above, getting further and further away. She knew the chances of ever returning were slim.

Damn you, Robert.

Damn you, Tywin.

Damn you, Aerys.

_Damn you, Rhaegar._


	2. Prologue 2 - DORNE 283AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole story is split into five parts. This first part is called: "Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls."

**DORNE, 283AC.**

The small boat came around Sharp Point as the sun emerged from the horizon, the dawn light reflecting off the water’s surface. A little flag with a sun and spear trailed in the soft breeze from the back of the merchant’s ship, signalling the small boat to dock on its side. Blister’s had begun to form on her soft hands, her arm aching from the long distance. At the bottom of the boat, the small child slept soundly curled up by her feet. Waking the child, she grabbed onto the rope ladder down the side of the ship, putting the child on her back and insisting she held on tight. As she reached the top, she collapsed onto the deck of the ship, the child rolling off her back.

Standing above her was an older man with greying hair and joyful green eyes, while the rest of the crew pretended as though they weren’t secretly peeping a look at the two strange people who had appeared on deck. She shuffled herself back to lean against the inner side of the ship, the child scampering to curl up and hide in her arms.

“Your grace, welcome. We will take you to The Tor in Dorne and horses have been arranged for you to then ride to Sunspear.”

“Thank you,” she exhaled.

“You only have one child here?” he asked, dread filling him as he realised the truth.

“Yes,” she replied solemnly, no further comment.

“I thought the Kingsguard would escort you? He was after all, who arranged this,” he said surprised.

“He had to stay. So, how much did he pay you for this?” she replied, leaning against the side of the ship with the shy child in her arms.

“He didn’t need to,” he replied.

“He didn’t?”

“I’m not stupid, your grace, I know what they would have done to you had you stayed,” he replied bitterly, staring out at the sea as though he was looking for something that was not there. _If he hadn’t saved us we’d be buried with the others._

“Why do you care?” she said, getting to her feet with the child still in her arms.

“I don’t believe this war deserves to take any more lives from us,” he said.

“Who are you?” she replied. He didn’t respond.

“I’m from the Riverlands, Your Grace. A small village south of a ruined castle by the Trident,” he replied. From his tone, the truth was obvious.

“Does that castle happen to be Oldstones?” she asked, realisation coming over her.

“I was a peasant farm owner. Many years ago, when Jenny was young, the winter had ruined the farm she worked on. Short of food, I invited her and her friends for dinner every night for four weeks until the soil recovered. Many years later, after she married Prince Duncan, she visited our village. She gave me a sack of gold dragons and told me to make something great of myself. I am now one of the richest merchants of the Stepstones.”

She looked out at the shimmering sea surface, as the sun became fully visible on the horizon. The child refused to leave her arms, so she sat on the stairs as the merchant and his men prepared the sail for Dorne. They would no doubt spend the next weeks below deck, out of sight. _May the gods bless my mother’s kindness._

*

They sail for weeks, hidden below the deck of the ship in comfortable cabins. Her silver hair was still buried beneath a shawl, for fear of traitor’s in the merchant’s crew. The merchant makes all necessary trades, to avoid suspicion from the homeland. There were probably thousands of lion and stag scouts all over the kingdom by now, the thirst for reward overpowering their morals. Baratheon and Tywin were probably giving ten thousand gold dragons for her head alone. Once they finally reach the dornish seas, relief washes over her, and she knows she is in safer lands. The outrage caused by the death of the royal family would be far more prominent in Dorne, and not doubt war would be upon them again soon with news that two royal Princesses had escaped the capital.

They dock at The Tor at sundown, the large docks filled with merchant stalls and small ships ready to head for the Stepstones. They trailed through the markets and bypassed the local town on the side of a great keep. Below a large tree was a Sand Stead, strong enough to hold them both. It was tied up to the tree with a smaller steed with saddlebags tied beside it. It is then she realises she shouldn’t be riding when she is with child, but there is no other option. She is helped up onto the horse before her niece is passed up to her by the old merchant. She places the toddler against her stomach, feet either side of the horse.

“I don’t know how to repay you,” she whispered, staring down at the merchant from horseback.

“It is Jenny I am repaying, Your Grace,” he bowed, ushering her to the road before walking back in the direction of the docks.

As the horse begins to trot, the toddler stirs in her arms, turning its head to look up at her, with violet eyes that mirrored her own.

“Where, Aunty?” the little girl whispered.

“We’re in your mother’s homeland, sweetling,” she whispered back.

“Mama here?” the little girl whispered in hope.

“No,” she sighed, tucking the child’s hair behind its ears. She imagined it would be a long time before the child ever understood.

*

They rode south in the direction of Godsgrace, which would lead them to the Greenblood river that leads to Sunspear. The Princess was thankful that she had travelled through Dorne before, and therefore had some idea of the direction she was heading. She did not rush, afraid of losing her unborn child, which was becoming apparent with the small swell of her stomach. Her niece remained quiet most of the trip, making little fuss and asking very few questions. Thankfully, the southern air was hot and still warm at night, so freezing was of no worry. The steeds were fine creatures and could ride all day with very few breaks. They came across very few Dornishmen, and to those they did, her niece’s dark hair and tan skin were enough of a disguise to avoid the suspicion that came with her pale skin.

When they finally reached Godsgrace, they circled around the woods of the fortress and continued east along the river, avoiding the main road which was always busy this close to the capital. Their food supplies were beginning to run low, no doubt due to their slower pace. She made sure her niece ate her fill before she touched the dwindling supplies. But she wouldn’t stray from the river, no matter the urgency. If her predictions were correct, Sunspear was only a few days rides from the city, as they had just passed the abandoned fortress of Shandystone. The few they encountered did not ask questions; they had their own reasons for avoiding the main road too. She washed her niece every few days, but would not risk removing her shawl to wash her greasing hair.

Relief filled both woman and child as Sunspear came into view on the horizon, they were at the last of their food supplies and had begun to drink out of the clean streams they came across. She quickened the pace slightly until they reached small gates of the city, where the woman and her niece dismounted the horses and tied them up to a tree outside the gates, uncaring if they were stolen.

Making sure her head shawl covered her head, she took a thin blanket from the horse and tied two of the shorter ends around her waist and the other two around her neck, forming a ‘pocket’ for her niece to sit in, like she had seen the lowborn of Fleabottom do with their children. She knew she shouldn’t be carrying anything, being with prominently with child, but her niece’s hair was the only way to blend into the labyrinth of the city. She would not risk taking The Threefold Gate entrance, which would no doubt be heavily guarded with sentries all over. She would not risk their identities being discovered until they were safely inside the great fortress.

They hurried through the city, following the path Prince Oberyn had once shown her, that leads straight to the back gates of the Royal fortress. It took an hour or so to reach the gates and having carried her niece so far she was exhausted, feeling faint as she approached the gates of the fortress. The guards were on full alert, with far more of them than she had ever seen before in her short time in Sunspear many years ago. She approached what looked like the head guard, a large stocky man with dark skin and sharp spear drawn at his side. She wasn’t a particularly threatening sight, resembling nothing more than a commoner woman and her babe, but perhaps that is what the guard had been told to look for.

“Hello, Ser. I need to get inside the castle,” she stated, staring at him with her piercing purple eyes with a voice of authority.

“And who are you?” he questioned, interest in his eyes.

She lifted her nieces head, coaxing her to turn her head towards the guard, showing him the girl’s identical shaded eyes. A look of realisation washed over the man’s face, and in response, the woman pulled a small strand of her silver hair from beneath her shawl, before quickly tucking it away again. The guard fully understood.

“I need to get inside,” she repeated, he nodded in return.

“Come,” he said, motioning for his fellow guards to take over while he escorted them through the fortress, avoiding prying eyes. Her niece began to look around in curiosity, her aunt allowing her to do so as they passed through the lavish corridors. They climbed many stairwells, which was inflicting horrible dizziness on the woman. Finally reaching the familiar area she knew well, the Tower of the Sun, relief was hitting her harder than the growing feeling of sickness. The guard stopped outside a large lavish door, where angry shouting voices could be heard behind it. The guard knocked on the door loudly, with the permission of the guards standing either side of it. The door was ripped open by an inner guard, revealing an angry Oberyn Martell arguing with his brother. Both hadn’t noticed the woman standing there, nor the wide-eyed child looking frightened as she watched the two men begin to get physical with each other.

“Oberyn! Doran! Stop!” she shouts, releasing her niece onto the floor to hide behind her skirts.

Both turn in shock at the intruder, a familiar face they had not seen in many years. She removed her shawl, to let her dirty limp silver hair flop down to her side. Oberyn’s eyes immediately travel to the child at her skirts and then back up at her. Suddenly, the dizziness takes over and she collapses to the floor, resulting in the loud cry of her niece as she fell out of consciousness.


	3. Chapter 1 - STARFALL 283AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first real chapter of this book, as the other's a sort of 'prologues' that bring up a lot of questions.

The crimson red mountains towered over the Prince’s Pass, suffocating the valleys with scorching heat. The dark leathers of the two riding men were not suited to the harsh sweltering climate of the Dornish sands. They rode slowly, extra horses carrying a body taken by death. There were two other riders, their dresses far more suited to the temperatures of their homeland. One carried a babe, feeding at her breast with hunger. Their ride was long and slow through the mountains, avoiding the Kingsgrave and Skyreach as they climbed the desert mountains, heading to the only place the men knew would be safe. Dorne was no safe place for a rebellion leader. Passing over the highest mountains, they spotted High Hermitage on the now visible Torrentine river. A sigh of relief filled the leader of the group, knowing his destination was only a matter of days away.

They passed down the face of the mountain, avoiding the grand keep in sight, before finally reaching the grasslands on the side of the great river. Their path would be less demanding from here. The riders bathed in a gentle stream that forked from the river, washing the red and orange sands from their clothes and hair, ending with a far more pleasant reflection in the water. The leader sat by the river, cradling the naked babe freshly bathed in the cold stream, watching solemnly as it cried from the cold water’s touch. He quickly did a poor job of swaddling the tiny thing in a woollen blanket, trying to cease its haunting cries. If only the babe knew what his parent's actions had cost. 

“Ned,” spoke the leader's companion, “Starfall is only a day’s ride from here. Are you sure they’ll keep quiet?”

“I don’t know Lord Dayne, nor any of the Dayne men. But I know Ashara, Howland. She will keep both me and my nephew safe, I guarantee it,” he replied.

“Oh yes, the beautiful and noble Lady Ashara Dayne. I heard you two had been quite the pair for some time, although of course, you a now married to another woman,” he remarked, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

“No need to remind me of the consequences of this war Howland,” he said with dismay. They rode onwards, hoping to reach the magnificent castle by nightfall. 

It had taken a little longer than they expected, but they soon caught sight of the island castle, all the same, looking out at the great Summer Sea. The air began to smell of salt as the sea approached in the distance, the taste of regret bitter on Ned Stark’s tongue. The sun was setting on the horizon, letting the colourful and infamous star covered sky emerge from the dusk. They approached the gates, greeting guards with familiar purple banners on their long shields.

“Good Sers, I have come to visit the Lady Ashara. May we enter?” asked Ned, very nervously.

“And what is your purpose, meeting with Lady Dayne?” asked one guard, raising his eyebrows at the northern accent.

“Tell her Ned Stark is here. She will understand,” he replied.

The guards looked at each other, both surprisingly unsurprised by the rebels visit. Nodding at each other, they opened the gates and led the Lord and his companions through the gates. The guards led them through the open corridors and stairs of the great keep, making little noise in the night’s silence. Eventually, they stood before a small door at the top of one of the high towers, where the guard knocked and waited. Only a few moments later, a response came, the door opened by the most beautiful woman in Westeros - at least in Ned Stark’s opinion.

She stared in shock, long and hard at the man stood before her, before letting her eyes fall on his companions. She took an unusually long look at the babe held by a plump woman, and then back up at the familiar face before her.

“Sers, please escort Lord Reed and these women to appropriate chambers. Lord Stark, bring the babe and come inside.”

The men bowed and did as they were told, leaving Ashara, Ned and the newborn babe alone in the lady’s chambers. An awkward silence filled the air, the Lord and Lady staring with complicated expressions on their faces. 

“That is a rather Stark looking babe, Ned. Would I be wrong to assume it belongs to your sister?” she sneered, leaning back in her desk chair as she raised her eyebrows.

“To us, he is. But to the rest of the world, he is my bastard,” he responded, a grave tone in his voice.

“Your bastard? Will you claim him as your own? You already have a bastard Ned Stark, will you dishonour your name more than you’ve dishonoured me?” she spat, fury in her violet eyes.

A feeling of dread washed over him, the rumours he had hoped were lies were true.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked somberly.

“A girl.”

“Her name?”

“I haven’t named her yet. I thought when  _ her father  _ would come and marry me as he promised he would, we would name her together. She is now almost a year old, and still nameless.”

Ned Stark had never felt such shame is his life.  _ You dishonoured her, left her and failed your own child.  _ He sat down on the bed across from her, hesitant. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And he had never dishonoured anyone more than his lover.

“Can I meet her?” he asked, his tone wavering.

“Tomorrow, she is sleeping. Finally, full nights.”

“What are we going to do about them?” he asked, looking down at the sleeping babe in his arm.

“If you think I’m going to let you take my babe North and away from me, you are wrong. If you think I’m going to risk that babe’s head by taking him North, you are wrong,” she glowered. 

“But my nephew -”

“You have already given me one bastard; it won’t look suspicious if you’ve given me another Ned. If the babe develops anything Targaryen, I’m the perfect excuse. He will be much safer in Dorne, with his family.”

“His family is in the North -”

“His sister is in Sunspear, as is his Aunt. He will grow up with his cousin here too, and I will be the mother he will never get out of your  _ lady wife  _ if you claimed him as your own, especially when you now have a trueborn son” she hissed.

“Ashara, my love, you know I had to do my duty to get -”

“Your duty? Your duty was to  _ me!”  _ she exclaimed. “And what was it really for? Revenge for Brandon? The stupid idiot signed his own death warrant riding to Kingslanding and your father paid for it! And all because of your  _ darling sister  _ who ran away with  _ my best friend’s husband  _ to avoid her own  _ duty!  _ And for all of that my best friend and her son were murdered for it! If you thinking Dorne is bowing down to Robert, you are foolish. They will acknowledge no one but Rhaenys.”

“I’m sorry, Ashara! I have lost my whole family! I am sorry for everything you know, and I have no idea how I will ever make it up to you!” he cried, tears of regret beginning to form in his eye.

“Oh, I know exactly how you’re going to make it up. Jon can remain a Sand, regardless of what  _ status  _ Rhaegar may have given him. But your  _ eldest child  _ is a girl, no threat where  _ you’re from  _ to your Tully bitch’s babe, so you will legitimise her so help me god or I will have  _ Queen Rhaenys  _ do it for me,” she seethed. “If Winterfell was in Dorne, it would be hers to  _ rightfully inherit.” _

He stayed silent, nodding as he agreed to the terms she had presented. He could never be forgiven for how he dishonoured her, but perhaps he could save his own child his dishonour.

“Where is my brother, Ned?” Ashara asked, rather suddenly.

“He wasn't at the tower when he arrived. The others said he had ridden to Sunspear to guard Princess Rhaenys and Princess Visenya,” he replied. 

“He loved Elia. He would never fail her,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers as she approached Ned, holding her hands out.

He put the babe in her arms, watching with a smile of hope at a better life for his nephew. He would have a mother, and the best place in Westeros to be a bastard was no doubt Dorne.

“I’ll put him to bed with his cousin, wait here,” she responded, quietly leaving the room as he remained seated on the edge of the bed. 

It was only a few minutes before she returned, her long dark hair unclasped, her violet eyes illuminated in the candlelight. No woman could rival the beauty of the woman in front of him, one hand clasping his shoulder, the other tilting his chin to look up at her fascinating figure. Perhaps he could spend a few days in the paradise of what should have been, before facing his fate of another life with the wrong woman.

*

The wake at dawn, encircled in each other’s arms, before the faint sounds of babies cries can be heard from below them in the tower. Ashara sighs, wrapping a robe around her and throwing Ned’s clothes at his sleepy figure. He quickly gets changed, following Ashara down a short distance of the long flight of stairs, where she enters a beautiful nursery, occupied by a large woman cradling the newborn babe, while another cried in its crib by the large window. She strolled to the crib and lifted a much larger babe into her arms, who instantly quietened down at the comfort of her mother. Ned watch in awe as the little girl in a small purple dress giggled as she grabbed her mother’s hair, looking with wide purple eyes at Ned in curiosity, pointing her tiny finger at the strange figure. 

“Mama?” the little girl asks, still looking at Ned.

“That’s your Papa, love,” she replies, carrying her over to the astonished figure at the doorway. 

“Papa?” she asked, confused.

“Yes, that’s your Papa, love,” smiled Ashara, as Ned began to weep at the sight silently.

She gently passed the babe over into his arms, letting her chin rest on his shoulder. He slowly sat down in a seat close by, Ashara joining him as he admired his child. His first-born and only child he had ever met. Jon was his blood and his responsibility, but he would never quite feel the same type of love for the boy as he did his baby girl. 

“She has your features, Ashara. Although she has my long face,” he chuckled, bouncing the child on his lap as his mother had once done for him.

“So, what are we going to name her?” she asked, stroking the child’s short puff of dark hair. 

“I was thinking maybe naming her for my sis -”

“Do not even finish that sentence, Ned Stark. I will not insult my dear friend’s memory by naming my child after the woman that started this war,” she said darkly, and Ned knew not to push her. 

“Perhaps Lyarra, after my mother?” he asked, testing the name on his lip.

“I don’t think it suits her, Ned. She’s not much of a Northern babe,” she replied, kissing her daughter’s forehead. It was then the name came to him.

“I hope you don’t find this offensive for me to suggest…” he started.

“Nothing would be more offensive than your sister’s name, so go on…” 

“Maybe Elia?” he asked, cautiously.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise at his suggestion, staring down at her darling babe and turning its head to look at her with those identical eyes. She had always been a sweet babe, gentle in nature - although feisty when she wanted to be. It was the perfect name, for a babe so similar her friend, although would be painful at first. But she knew her lover was right.

“She definitely would take after her namesake. Elia it is,” she sighed, taking her daughter from his lap and cradling her babe carefully in her arms like she had when Elia was just a newborn. “And for your sister’s boy? He certainly is a Northerner…”

“My sister told me his name on her deathbed, although I am not sure how appropriate it is,” he recalled.

“Why would that be, perhaps because it is something ridiculously Valyrian?” she sniggered.

“She said his name was… Aegon Targaryen…” he sighed, confused at the logic. Ashara’s face immediately turned to one of pure disgust.

“That singing bastard sure knows how to be a fucking cunt even after his death,” she spat, trying not to scream in rage. “He already had his Aegon! A beautiful silver-haired, purple-eyed Targaryen babe he wanted, but he needed another one now, did he?”

“It confuses me as well,” Ned confessed, “but that doesn’t matter now, he will have to take a Northern name anyway. I had been thinking Jon, after my foster father.”

“After Jon Arryn, the new Hand of the King to the Usurper Baratheon?”

“He is like a second father to me, Ashara.”

“Fine, he is not my child to name. Jon, it is. And if he is ever revealed as a Targaryen, he will be Aemon, not Aegon. I will not insult the memory of my friend and her child,” she glowered.

“You must treat him like your own child, remember Ashara, for our plan to work,” he said, worried at her display of anger.

“No need to worry, Ned. I do not blame a child,” she said, staring lovingly at her daughter, before turning with dark eyes at her lover, “for the sins of its father.”

*

He spent his last days at Starfall treasuring the moments with his lover, daughter and nephew. He’d spend his days cradling Jon in the nursery and playing with Elia in the gardens, letting Howland plan their journey back to Kingslanding. He spent his nights in his lover’s warm embrace, with a fiery passion in the deepest parts of the night. He had expected his indiscretions to make him feel some level of guilt, but it didn’t. Had his brother not died, Ashara could be his wife and could spend the rest of his days with her. But duty called, and he did his duty. He married his brother’s betrothed and dishonoured his lover in the process.

Very few at Starfall knew of Jon’s existence, if even Elia’s, as most were still returning defeated from the war. For those who knew the truth about Jon, they were not to worry about. There were only a handful, all loyal to either the Starks or the Daynes. Lyanna’s maid and wetnurse had been dismissed with a significant amount of gold and the Dayne’s wet nurse Wyalla had taken over. From now on, the babe was Jon Sand of House Dayne and Stark. 

The night before his departure, Ned and Ashara lay in bed with their daughter between them, Jon being tended to by the wet nurse in the nursery. Elia was fast asleep, ignorant of her parents weeping at their losses. They embraced for the last time later in the night, after Elia had been taken back to the nursery. There was tears and laughter and declarations of love. They made love as though they would never see each other again - something that was very likely. 

Ashara had word from Sunspear the previous day. Dorne would be declaring its independence from the seven - now six - kingdoms. Their leadership would soon fall to the Princess - now Queen - Rhaenys of the Houses Martell and Targaryen. Prince Doran Martell and Princess Visenya Targaryen would serve as Regents until she came of age. The Red Mountains and Dornish Marches had been sealed off from the Reach and the Stormlands, with abandoned fortresses such as the Vulture’s Roost being reoccupied by the Martell’s forces as a defence to any invaders. House Wyl was guarding the Boneway pass from invasion; House Manwoody was guarding the Prince’s Pass from Kingsgrave, as well as the Vulture’s Roost to the North. It was up to House Blackmont and House Dayne to shield Dorne from the southwestern part of the Reach, who had begrudgingly kneeled to Baratheon. Defences were to be set up along the Torrentine River to prevent large boats from travelling down them, without restricting the local tradesman and fishermen from continuing their business. The red mountains to the West were to be heavily guarded and sealed off from any access. Starfall was about to become the most heavily protected castle in the whole of Westeros.

The young Queen Rhaenys and her aunt Princess Visenya were going to be living in Starfall until the Queen was of age. House Dayne would be protecting the last two - or three - or four - Targaryens left in Westeros. The word that Queen Rhaella had died had travelled through the Kingdoms, with Viserys and the new babe Daenerys exiled to Essos. They would arrive in two months by road, and all necessary arrangements would have to be complete by then. Both Ashara and Ned knew this meant very little chance of them meeting again. They were sworn to two different rulers, out of duty to their friends. 

The day Ned left, he grieved as he said his last goodbyes to his little Elia and nephew Jon, who he would likely not see until they were both fully grown. If the gods were good, he would be able to walk his little girl down the aisle. He embraced Ashara in front of the whole courtyard, uncaring as he kissed her with such intensity, watching the heartbreak on her face disappear from her face for just a moment.

“I love you, I always will, nothing will ever change that,” he whispered mournfully in her ear. He then mounted his horse, riding out of the gates with Howland at his side. He only turned back once, his grey eyes catching violet for one last time.


	4. Chapter 2 - DORNE 284AC

Time passes slowly, images flashing through her mind as she fades in and out of consciousness. She sees a great wall of ice, hundreds of feet high, a blue rose growing in a crack of through the ice. The image fades, and then there are dragons, soaring across the ocean with hundreds of ships beneath them on the waves. There are five, scales of different colours and ridden by unknown figures flying through the air with magnificent grace. The image changes again. There is a lone lion cub, strolling through an endless desert, walking through the sea of vipers unbothered. The last scene is deep in the woods, eight wolf pups chasing their prey with ferocious faces. It fades, as she opens her eyes to the real world, coming face to face with a red viper sitting by her bedside.

He stared at her concerned, a deep frown on his face with his black beady eyes looking for any sign of sanity. She slowly looked around the room she was in, filled with flowers and sunlight pouring in a large window, the curtains were only half drawn. She was in her old chamber from when she visited Sunspear years ago. She slowly moved her hand, her whole body aching, onto her seemingly empty stomach. She looked at Oberyn, fear in her eyes as he followed her movements and calculated what he should say next.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

“Other than a lot of blood, no,” she replied. “The babe?”

“Alive and as healthy as one born so early can be, but the maesters insisted he must be treated very carefully,” he replied, causing her heart skip a beat.

“I want to see him,” she stated, pushing herself slowly into a temporary sitting position on the bed.

“You have been very sick, so the maesters don’t want you to risk infecting him until you are well,” he replied, standing from the bed to look out of the window at the sky. “So, are you going to tell me how you came to bring a bastard into the world?”

“You’re one to talk,” she smirked but disappointed at the thought of being separated from her son. “But I guess I win, by having a son before you.”

“Am I allowed to inquire on who the father of this son is?” he joked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“No, you are not Oberyn. And don’t look so smug,” she said, rolling her eyes at his arrogant look of triumph on his face.

“I spent months trying to get you in bed, Princess, but you wouldn’t even let me steal a kiss! You said you were ‘saving’ yourself for marriage,” he exclaimed, but still with an amused expression, “but here we are. I must say, he must be quite the man to coax the maiden Princess into bed if he out-performed the legendary red viper in such things.”

“Well I don’t plan on telling you who that man is anytime soon,” she replied. “So, where do we go from here?”

Oberyn’s face suddenly fell to one of sorrow and then anger, the reality of their situations setting in. His sister, along with her infant son, had been murdered on Tywin’s order, with Rhaenys escaping by the skin of her teeth with Visenya. His beautiful sister, the calm to his storm, _ raped _ and  _ slaughtered _ with her  _ son’s blood _ all over her. Oberyn would settle for nothing less than the worst deaths for all those responsible, both the murderers and the man who ordered it. For now, however, the priority was winning back the Kingdoms for his dear niece. Doran was about to declare Dorne independent, and name Rhaenys Queen of _ Dorne _ . The other six kingdoms could wait until she was of age and they had the adequate army to take over. Once Visenya had recovered, a large party would be in charge of escorting Rhaenys, Visenya and her infant son to Starfall - which they deemed the safest place for the last of the Targaryens. For who of all could be trusted to protect Rhaenys than her mother and father’s best friends - the Daynes. Queen Rhaella, Viserys and the unborn child were on Dragonstone, unable to safely travel to Dorne to join them. He prayed that the abused wife of Aerys and the innocent children would not suffer his sister and nephew’s fate.

“We go to Starfall. Ashara has sealed off the border of Dorne with our help and has Starfall secured. It is much safer for you there than here. Rhaenys has been declared Queen of Dorne -”

“Dorne? Queen? You’ve become independent?” she asked shocked.

“Yes, but we have not declared her for the other Kingdoms, to avoid a war we cannot fight right now. Rhaenys, along with your new son, will be raised in Starfall, and hopefully, Queen Rhaella and her children can eventually join us. Too many innocents have died at the actions of the Usurper,” he spat darkly. 

“If Rhaenys is Queen, what of Doran and the Martells? Is she being declared a Martell Queen? What is the line of succession?”

“Doran is still the ruler of Dorne, acting as Rhaenys’ regent. Us vipers shall remain the rulers of Dorne, with Doran as Rhaenys’ heir, but the last Targaryens have been adopted into our royal family,” he replied. “So you remain a Princess.”

“When do we leave for Starfall?” she asked, processing everything her friend had said.

“In a week. Word has it the Usurper is marrying the Lannister bitch. We need you safe once Tywin has secured his daughter to the throne. Assassin's are already onto us. You will all travel by wheelhouse, so as not to hurt your recovery.”

“When can I see my babe?” she asked, not caring much for anything else at the present moment.

“In two days, the maester says,” he replied. She nodded in acceptance, closing her eyes and seeing the image of its father’s cheeky grin and laughing eyes in her mind. She felt tears slip down her face, slow and salty as they reached her mouth.

_ She will never see him again. _

*

The babe stares up at her, with the pale blue shade of newborn’s, swaddled firmly against her breast in the wheelhouse. The little girl curled up at her side played with his fingers, staring curiously at Visenya’s bundle of joy.

“Egg?” asked the little girl, staring up at her aunt with hope. Visenya’s smile fell from her face, dread overtaking her features.

“No, my sweet. Egg is with your mother in the heavens. This is my babe, your cousin,” she replied, twirling the small strands of her babe’s silver hair in her fingers.

“Name?” the girl asked, a frown on her face.

“His name is Daemon. Similar to my own father’s name, but not the same,” she responded. Rhaenys nodded, although she could not fully understand. It would take her a long time until she did. 

They had been travelling for two weeks, and Visenya was already exhausted despite not being on horseback. Childbirth had taken a significant toll on her body, likely due to its mistreatment in her escape to Dorne. She knew the fate of childbirth - Elia had almost died twice, and Rhaella many more times than that, and her mother had died on the birthing bed; although she suspects that was more in grief at the loss of her father rather than the physical damage. But her babe was safe, and that is all that mattered. He would have a sister in Rhaenys to grow up with, and Oberyn had vowed to protect them until his dying breath. The Red Viper was not one to swear vows.

She had fostered in Dorne many years ago when Aerys was beginning to reach his height in madness, as Rhaella worried for her safety. The Mad King had not liked his common-born niece and never failed to express it. It was why she had never married Rhaegar, as many assumed she would. No, he would never have a taint of common blood tough his true-born heir. Maybe if she had married her cousin, the world would be a different place. But she was glad she hadn’t. She loved Rhaegar, and he loved her. But it was a different kind of love - not the obsessive and passionate love that she held for her lover and Rhaegar, inconveniently, the Stark girl. They would’ve had a better marriage than he had with Elia, although she would never have voiced that aloud. But they would’ve fallen for their lovers whether they chose to or not. 

But she came to Dorne and met her lifelong friend in Oberyn Martell. They both had enough sarcasm and wit to gel perfectly, a humorous vibe between them unrivalled by anyone. He loved her in some romantic way, she knew, but she never did - not like that. He was too much of a brother at the time, as she had never truly had a brother. She hadn’t realised yet what love truly was.

The wheelhouse began to slow, meaning they were no doubt approaching their final destination, Starfall. She opened the shutter to stare past the guards out at the Torrentine, where Starfall was, right in the middle of the river looking out at the summer sea. Dusk was approaching, so the Dayne’s had arranged a small feast for the travelling party. The sound of the massive drawbridge dropping with a loud bang woke Rhaenys from her daze by her lap, jumping up to peak through the shutters.

“Where, Aunty?” she asked, curiosity filling the child’s eyes.

“Starfall, Rhaenys. The seat of the Daynes. Where aunty Ashara lives,” she responded, her babe fast asleep in her arms.

“Aunty Shara?” the little girl squeaks excitedly.

“Yes, little one. We are going to be living here for a while.”

The carriage came to a halt, so Visenya quickly straightened her niece’s gown, as well as her own, waiting for the wheelhouse to open. Thankfully, her Dornish attire was more freeing for her aching body post-childbirth, lacking the tight corsets and constricting sleeves she was used to. Oberyn opened the door, holding his hand out to his niece, who reluctantly took it after reassurance from her aunt, still wary of all those who were not familiar. She knew her uncle Oberyn, but her shy and scared nature prevented her from trusting any male who was not her father. Her grandfather had been a scary man.

Visenya followed her out into the courtyard, cradling Daemon close to her chest as she exited the carriage. She was greeted by the sight of Lord Dayne, Ashara and her little sister around Rhaenys’ age, along with the rest of the Dayne’s household. What had shocked her, was the large babe in Ashara’s arms, clutching at her hair with a frown upon its little features. If her suspicions were correct, it seems she would not be the only of Elia’s companions to have a child out of wedlock. Oberyn was just as shocked, looking wide-eyed at his childhood friend with disbelief. Lord Dayne stepped forward to speak,

“Your Graces, we welcome you to Starfall. May I present myself, Lord Arron Dayne, my sisters Ashara and Allyria, and Ashara’s daughter Elia,” he spoke, his proud words filling the courtyard.

There was a sharp intake of breath at that name -  _ Elia _ . Visenya swore she could see tears in Oberyn’s eyes as she stared wide-eyed at him and then the child, no doubt around a nameday old. The sharp silence was quickly broken by Rhaenys running at Ashara and throwing her arms around her skirts, causing Ashara to bend down and embrace her, balancing her child in her other arm. Lord Dayne quickly began to escort everyone inside, the drawbridge coming up to shut off the almost impenetrable castle. Oberyn and Visenya promptly made their way to Ashara, who accompanied them and Rhaenys to the high tower of the keep, where they entered a nursery, with bright violet colours everywhere. The guards shut the door, leaving them to themselves, where many unanswered questions were about to be answered. Rhaenys immediately felt more comfortable and went to play with the many dolls set up for her in the corner of the room. Ashara lay her child in a large crib intended for all the babe’s to share. It was then both Visenya and Oberyn noticed a sleeping newborn with tufts of dark hair laying in the crib.

“And who is this?” asked Visenya confused.

“My son, Jon,” she answered, with a grave tone to her voice.

“A daughter  _ and _ a son? Why was he not presented?” asked Oberyn, suspicion lacing his tone.

“Because he’s supposed to be a secret for now,” she replied, playing with her cooing daughters hand. Visenya walked over and laid her sleeping son in the crib, on the other side of the crib to Elia, with the babe Jon in the middle.

“So,  _ Lady Dayne _ , who is the lucky man to sire not one child on you, but  _ two _ ?” teased Oberyn, joining Ashara in playing with the little girl with his sister’s name.

“Ned Stark,” she replied, and Oberyn almost fainted right there and then.

“A _ fucking Stark _ got into your skirts? A _ Stark _ ? The friend of the  _ Usurper _ ,” he shouted. “So when were the children conceived?”

“The Tourney of Harrenhall,” she replied, sadness washing over her face.

An awkward silence fell over the room, the harsh sting of the past still a fresh wound in all of their minds. It was the event that started the chain of events that lead to this very moment, in this very room, with these children.

“And?” asked Visenya.

“And what?”

“The boy?” she raised her eyebrows, as though it was obvious. The blood drained from Ashara’s face, pale guilt marking her features.

“I didn’t bring him into the world, but he is my son,” she replied, standing protectively over his crib.

“Then who’s is he?” asked Visenya, dread filling her as her suspicions were becoming more and more real in her mind.

“He is Rhaenys’ brother,” she replied, fear in her eyes as the truth dawned upon Oberyn.

“You mean… no… you took him in… why? Why? How can you possibly… why?” he asked, anger in his tone and for the first time in his life, he stared at his friend with pure hatred.

“It does not matter Oberyn. He is my son; I promised Ned. Rhaenys is Queen, and it will stay that way,” Ashara insisted, still standing protectively over the crib like a she-wolf.

“And what of when they are older?” Visenya asked, “If the truth is ever discovered, people will use him as an excuse not to support Rhaenys’ claim.”

“Rhaenys is the eldest child, and in Dorne that makes her heir, regardless of the Stark bitch’s bastard,” sneered Oberyn.

“Yes, but that is Dorne, you will not make the other six Kingdoms pick a daughter over a son easily,” reasoned Visenya.

“Which is why, if they agree and wish it, they should wed once of age,” replied Ashara, “it will erase the threat of competition and strengthen Rhaenys’ claim.”

“I think it is agreed that incest is not the way to go anymore,” growled Oberyn.

“They are half-siblings Oberyn, and Targaryens at that. If they so wish it, they should wed, as long as it is not forced. Incest isn’t as disgusting to those born of a long line of it,” Visenya insisted. “I agree with Ashara.”

“Fine, but only if they so wish it,” Oberyn submitted, although still stared at the babe with a harsh look on his face.

“And he is now my son, Oberyn. He will be Jon Sand, until the day he will be safe as Prince Aemon,” replied Ashara. “I will not blame a child for the sins of its parents.”

*

It had been a month since their arrival in Starfall, and Elia, Jon and Daemon had formed quite the bond. Rhaenys, older than the babes, had found a friend in Allyria, whom she was of an age with. Everything had been going as plan, Ashara and Visenya taking on the role of mother to the two who had lost them to the dragon prince. Oberyn had warmed up to Jon, as a father himself could not deny the boy was a sweet and quiet child, with almost no sign of the dragon prince in him save the deep violet eyes and melancholy personality. 

Dorne, having been declared independent, had begun to rely on trade to Essos heavily, as the Stormlands, Crownlands, Westerlands, the Vale, the North and the Reach had cut off almost all trade with them, other than crops. However, the intellect of Doran Martell had solved their grave trade crisis, by making a trade route to the Stepstones, where Dorne sold its food to a group of merchants who would then sell it onto the rest of the Kingdoms for a higher price. But Dorne still made the profit, the Martells secretly holding the majority of shares in the company of merchants responsible. The Lannisters and Baratheons would soon feel the weight in the loss of taxes that came from the southernmost Kingdom, and the Martells would rejoice in their newly found riches.

Ashara and Visenya sat across from each other on the balcony for tea, staring down at the children in the gardens playing with Oberyn and their assigned nurses. Both shared a lot more in common now than they had only a year ago. A bastard each with a man they could not have, no matter their feelings. They were never particularly close, but they both felt the loss of Elia. Even if Ashara suffered more, her greater loss was felt the same by Visenya in the loss of Rhaegar. Resentment aside, there was once a time where Rhaegar and Visenya only had each other.

“I have news,” muttered Ashara, sighing sadly. Visenya turned her head from the children, looking at the dark haired woman expectantly. “I am with child, it seems. From Ned’s last visit before he headed to Kingslanding.”

Visenya rolled her eyes and laughed in glee; another member to add to the vast crowd of parentless children, whether missing one or both. It seems the star and the wolf still couldn’t resist each other, even if a cold fish were now in the picture.

“Will you tell him?” she asked, still amused.

“Of course. He promised to have Elia legitimised. Obviously, this child cannot be a Stark with a Tully son now in the picture, particularly if it is a boy. But I will not have a child born of no broken vows and pure love no take the name she deserves, which has calmed my brother's anger for his sister being dishonoured,” she replied. 

“At least you have that luxury,” Visenya said, turning solemn.

“Will you ever tell anyone?” asked Ashara curiously, careful not to push her and be ignored for days like Oberyn had been only a fortnight ago.

“Not for a very long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! I appreciate feedback :) what do you think is going to happen from here?


	5. Chapter 3 - KINGSLANDING 284AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Robert reunite, but tensions are still high. Jaime faces two of his family members, both encounters not ending well. Ned writes some difficult letters.

**KINGSLANDING, 284AC.**

The empty hall echoed as he slowly walked towards the throne room, the dragons painted on the red walls seemed to follow him with their eyes, haunting him for the recent atrocities committed in the keep. He approached the great doors, with two Lannister guards watching him suspiciously as they opened the doors for him to enter the great room. He had left off on a bad note with the new King and intended to make amends, despite his anger he still had for Robert's actions. The court turned and stared as he walked up the gap in the centre towards his friend's throne. An awkward silence fell over the room as he approached the dark-haired figure on the throne, glaring down at him as he bowed before speaking in a harsh cold tone.

"My King, as you have heard, my sister is dead," he stated. The anger on the King's face vanished and replaced by one of sorrow.

"He killed her, that fucking silver prince," he spat, "she was supposed to be mine."

"She died of a fever, Robert, and I was there to see her go. I heard you married since I left, however," he replied, staring at the golden new Queen sat to his left by the throne. She had a disdainful expression on her face, clearly slighted at the mention of his dear sister.

"I did. Now, are you here to apologise?" growled Robert, his anger returning.

"I will no longer bring up the matter or demand justice, providing that the bodies of Princess Elia and her son are returned to Dorne," he said coldly, holding his head high at his friend.

"That girl and her dragonspawn -"

"Are members of House Martell. It is only right to send their remains to them, to soften the blow to the Kingdoms at their assumption we are all baby killers," replied Ned, glaring up at him.

"Those Dornish fuckers have declared themselves independent with the dragonspawn as their Queen -"

"I agree with Eddard, Robert," said a greying man, the new Hand of the King Jon Arryn, looking at him with approval. "Best we avoid another war. They have only declared the girl for Dorne, not the other six Kingdoms. Let them be independent, they will suffer economically as a consequence. And if the day comes she tries to rebel against your throne; we will be far more prepared than we are now."

He shot a grateful look to his foster father, sitting on the opposite side of the throne to the Queen. Robert pondered over the thoughts in his head, giving a frustrated grunt at his two most trusted friend ganging up on him.

"Fine, send their corpses back. For now, I want these fucking dragon skulls out of this room, put them somewhere I won't see them!" he roared. "Ned, come, I need a drink."

The Baratheon King stood up from the throne, and court dispersed as he exited through a side door, his friend in tow. Ned was beginning to think that Robert being King was a bad idea. If only the Northern Army had reached the keep in time and crowned Aegon as King, they could have installed a suitable Reagent. He trailed along behind him, through the unfamiliar castle to a large chamber in Maegor's Holdfast that contained very few decorations - clearly having recently been wiped of any trace of the former King.

"Come, sit," huffed Robert, sculling a large glass of wine before sitting now lazily in one of the three chairs on the balcony, that looked out at the Narrow Sea, a large fleet of Baratheon ships scattered at the entrance to the harbour. It was a murky day, the sun refusing to peak through the thick clouds of the stinking city.

He sat across from his friend, pure disappointment still rooted deep in his heart. But what was done was done, and he needed to rekindle his friendship with the young man who was more of a brother than his own, having grown up in the Vale with him. He reluctantly took the glass of Arbour Gold from his friend and cleared his throat.

"I have a request, Robert."

"It better be a good one," huffed his friend, the events in the throne room having irked him.

"I have two natural children, a boy and a girl, and I wish to have the girl legitimised," he started, "I would legitimise the boy too, but I don't want the Tully's to see him as a threat to my trueborn son, Robb."

Robert looked shocked, before breaking into a roaring laugh. He threw his head back, becoming breathless, at the most amusing request his friend had ever made.

"The great, honourable Ned Stark has  _two_  bastards? What woman is beautiful enough for  _Eddard Stark_  to forget his honour?" snorted Robert, the mood of the room changing entirely.

"Ashara Dayne."

Robert spat out his wine all over the table, envy all over his face as he began laughing, in a different tone, again.

"How the  _fuck_  did you get that beauty to spread her legs?" he asked baffled.

"We were supposed to marry, but then Brandon died, so I had to marry Catelyn," he responded, the grief resurfacing.

"I know how you feel, Ned. We both were forced to marry the wrong woman, me for Lyanna's death and you for your duty," he replied solemnly.

Ned didn't know what to say.  _You have no idea how I feel, Robert, Lyanna never loved you. It's the small part of me that understands Prince Rhaegar._  But he couldn't voice the hidden truth, so he just nodded in agreement. After a long reflective silence, Ned continued.

"I have left the children with Ashara," he spoke, "in Dorne. I would bring them home to be raised in the North, but I fear the Tullys would feel slighted, and Ashara won't leave Starfall. I know they will be safe with the Daynes."

"Aye, I don't blame you, I don't even know how many bastards I have," laughed Robert. "I'll legitimise the girl, don't worry. Their names?"

"I named the boy Jon for our good foster father, and Robb after you for my true born," making Robert smile, "but Ashara named our daughter Elia for her fallen friend."

Robert's smile fell, an awkward silence following. He almost looked guilty, Ned noticed, but he knew that his guilt was only for Princess Elia - not her child. Even Tywin Lannister mentioned her death was unnecessary, which made Ned snort,  _then why did you have her killed then?_

"Good names," muttered Robert, "I'll have the High Septon onto it, and I'll sign the paper when it's done."

*

The small council chamber was empty, save for his father sitting in a seat beside the King's vacant one, his eyes piercing his own as he approached. His white cloak moved silently behind him, his still-Targaryen Kingsguard armour glowing in the candlelight. The night's sky pitch black outside the stained glass windows, not a star to be seen for many weeks. He continued to stare at him as he sat across from him.

"Father, you wanted to see me?"

Tywin Lannister was a cold man. So frigid, he could have children killed without a flinch. Jaime's father had been that way, since the horrific day his mother died when he was only a young child. He could not remember the last time his father smiled - truly smiled. Tywin Lannister always got what he wanted, as well, no matter what he had to do to get it. He had murdered a woman and child to make sure his daughter was Queen and he would again, Jaime knew. The only thing Tywin wanted now was his heir back.

"Dorne is now officially independent, with the child as Queen. I intended to make my daughter Queen of the  _Seven_  Kingdoms; not six," stated Tywin. "So tell me, Jaime, how on earth did Rhaegar's girl and the lone Princess escape to Dorne?"

Jaime froze in his seat,  _did he know?_

"I have no idea. My job was to guard King Aerys," replied Jaime.

"Really? Or was it to kill him?" smirked Tywin, knowing he struck a nerve.

"It doesn't matter father. They're gone, let Dorne rule itself. As long as they don't rebel, there is nothing to worry about."

"You're more stupid than I thought if you think that they are nothing to worry about. Dorne declared itself independent of buying themselves time before they rebel. While the Targaryen girls still exist, along with Rhaella, Viserys and the unborn child on Dragonstone, Robert's claim is weak - making the Lannister Queen's claim weak. They need to all be dealt with," growled Tywin.

"Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon; the baby killers of Westeros. I'm not as stupid as you think, father, Robert's claim will be shit either way. Either he is threatened by living Targaryen's, or he is threatened by his own reputation,  _as are you_ ," sneered Jaime.

"Targaryen girls are not my worry, Jaime. It's the boys. Aegon is dead, which now leaves Viserys as the argued King, for those who do not support Rhaenys - which is only a tiny number of people. He must be killed, as not to threaten the throne. Him and the lone Princess's bastard," he snarled.

"What? What do you mean?" Jaime said baffled, his eyes widening.

"Visenya had a babe after arriving in Sunspear, Varys tells us. A silver-haired boy named Daemon. Obviously, he's a bastard, but he apparently takes completely after his Targaryen roots, as did his mother. He is also a threat, not as much as Viserys, but still."

The blood drained from Jaime's face, and he stilled in his seat. Not enough to cause suspicion, however.

"He is a bastard," defended Jaime.

"He is a male too, bastard or no, if he marries Rhaenys it almost doubles the threat."

"He is a babe."

Tywin huffed, ignoring his son before grabbing is quill and writing on the empty piece of parchment in front of him. Jaime had never been good at reading, but he could gather enough that his father was writing some sort of declaration, that would be copied and sent to everyone in the Kingdoms. He finished and looked up at Jaime, still sitting there, silently watching him.

"I want you to leave the Kingsguard-"

"No, my vows are for life," exclaimed Jaime.

"You've already broken the most important one-"

"They are still for life," spat Jaime, abruptly standing from his chair, and storming out of the chamber, leaving an annoyed Tywin Lannister behind, staring in disappointment as the figure exited the room.

He sped down the hallway, heading for the Kingsgaurd's quarters, his armour clanging as he fast paced down the passages. He was about to reach his quarter's when he found his sister standing there, looking at him expectantly in an unnecessarily elaborate dress. He had been avoiding her since she first arrived in the capital, smug as a brat as she walked down the aisle on her wedding day. She had finally gotten what she always wanted - to be Queen.

"Jaime! I have been looking for you," she smiled - more like smirking.

"Cersei," he acknowledged, falsely smiling at her, and for the first time in her life, she bought it.

"I have been meaning to thank you, for killing the King. You have given me exactly what I wanted," she laughed gleefully. His smile fell.

"I didn't kill the King for you, sister. I killed him for the realm," he replied. Her smug smile fell, but only a little.

"Regardless, I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Once father deals with the Targaryen bitches my claim will be secure," she gloated.

"I doubt anyone will ever be able to kill them, Cersei. They're the most protected people in Westeros. And you are Queen of the Six Kingdoms, now that Dorne is out of the loop," he retaliated.

Cersei's face quickly turned to one of anger, confused at her brother's sudden change in attitude.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Jaime. We had you join the Kingsguard so we would remain together. You killed that man who kept us apart, and we are finally where we are supposed to be - together. I have everything I want," she said, closing in on him, her fingers playing with his hair.

"You always have to have  _everything_ , don't you sister?" he muttered, pulling away from her. He turned away from her and walked in the other direction, going anywhere but there, leaving a confused and angry Cersei behind him.

*

The lone wolf sat at his desk in his makeshift chambers, his quill dipped in ink and bare parchment laying abandoned. His daughter had just been, and it was now his responsibility to write to his new lady wife, but the guilt left him stuck, unable to form any words. How does one tell a wife that he has - had - a lover, whom he has one - two - children by?

_My Lady,_

_I was pleased to hear from your last letter that my son is doing well, and I definitely approve of the name Robb, so have no worries. I apologise for not writing sooner, but it has been an eventful few months. I hear your sister is heading to the capital to join Lord Arryn here. Jon may be old, but I can promise you he will treat your sister well. He is an honourable man._

_I am looking forward to joining you in Riverrun soon. I hope you and Robb are faring well._

_I fear I must confess something you will not be pleased to hear. Our marriage was rather sudden. Before our wedding, I was somewhat betrothed to another lady, but we ended up on different sides in the war. I have two children by her, but they were born before we married. I have had my daughter legitimised as a compensation for not wedding my intended, but my son remains illegitimate, as I do not want you to feel as if there is competition for Robb. Robb is my heir. I only wish for my daughter to make a good match, and my son will find less stigma for being illegitimate where he is from. They will remain in the south with their mother, and I will not bring any more dishonour to you from this day forth. I apologise for the situation, but these actions happened long ago when you were still newly betrothed to my brother Brandon._

_Sincerely_

_Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North._

He rolled the parchment and sealed it, the red wax direwolf drying slowly as he fiddled with the corner of the next piece of parchment. This was an even harder letter to write; the wound still fresh and his words made him feel the heavy weight of guilt.

_Ashara,_

_So much has happened since I left Starfall. Robert is angry that your family is housing the Targaryens, but he has legitimised Elia regardless. She is now Lady Elia of House Dayne and Stark. I hope Rhaegar's daughter is not too damaged by the loss of her family; Robert and I are not the same friends after their slaughter. I know you and Princess Visenya were friends through Princess Elia, so I hope that she provides some comfort to you over your friend's death. Rumour has it she has had a babe, a boy, but the father is unnamed? I sincerely hope her babe is fairing well. I also hope the father is not the late Dragon Prince._

_But onto more cheerful things, how is my daughter? Has Jon started moving around more? I miss you all and the peace of Starfall. I can only hope one day you and our children can visit Winterfell, in the summer when they won't find it so cold. The thought of southern wolves amuses me, but perhaps it is the best place for them._

_I ride for Riverrun two days from now, to meet my wife and newborn son Robb. The thought of it makes me feel awkward. I have sent her a letter explaining the situation vaguely, so I hope she does not react too badly._

_Send me regular updates on the children._

_Ned._

He rolled up the second letter and sealed it, but this time the wax was grey - his personal seal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS!


End file.
